


Principles of Sharing

by citrinesunset



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: Charles is thrilled to reconnect with Moira, and Hank likes seeing him happy. But when the three of them go on vacation together, it isn't clear where things are heading.





	Principles of Sharing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris) in the [secret_mutant_madness_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2017) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> So, what I wanted to tag here was actually Moira/Charles/Hank but because nobody's written it yet, it's not a canonical tag. I've always wanted to see a fic with the three of them negotiating a relationship after Apocalypse. Maybe they're an actual threesome, maybe Hank and Moira just "share" Charles from time to time? Whatever you want as long as there's respect, love and friendship between all three. 
> 
> DNWs - I don't mind a little mention of past Charles/Erik but keep it very little for any fic. No Modern AUs, no depowered AUs please!

It was nice, for once, to be on a plane with Moira MacTaggert when the world _wasn't_ ending.

The only hardship was listening to Charles' idea of flirting. But it fun to watch Charles act like an over-excited teenager, especially when he thought he was fooling everyone.

Hank had known that Charles used Cerebro to look in on Moira a few times over the years. And when Charles had gone to see Moira, Hank was happy to let him have that. 

But now here they were in Charles' private jet, embarking on a long weekend in a hotel out of town. The fantasy was becoming much more real, and Hank was...surprisingly okay with it. It wasn't like Charles was going to abandon the school and go off to live with Moira in suburbia, after all. Hank had given so much of himself over the years, but he had to admit that right now, Charles needed something he didn't know how to give.

For Hank, the past didn't hold much nostalgia. But for Charles, being around Moira seemed to make him feel young again. Maybe she reminded him of a time when he hadn't suffered so many losses. A time when the world hadn't let him down yet.

Hank heard movement near the entrance to the cockpit and looked over his shoulder to see Moira ducking through the doorway.

"Mind if I join you for a minute?"

"Not at all. What about Charles?"

"He’s deciding on a bottle of wine to open. I told him to surprise me." Moira climbed into the copilot seat. "I don't know what I find more impressive—this or your fighter jet."

"Well, you don't usually have wine in a fighter jet."

Moira smiled. She looked just like he remembered her, but her plastic-rimmed glasses and impressive shoulder pads gave her an air of maturity that was new.

Her smile faded and she lowered her voice. "Listen, I don't want to pry…."

"You're a CIA agent. It's kind of your job to pry."

"Charles told me about the two of you. And I'm starting to worry one of us is the third wheel here, but I don't know if it's you or me. I don't want to cause any problems."

"Look, I appreciate your concern. And I'm glad Charles told you. But it's all right. He and I are on the same page, and seeing you again has been good for him."

Moira started to say something, but Charles' voice called out from the cabin.

"Moira? Do you still want some wine? I opened the cabernet sauvignon."

She smiled apologetically. "I should get back...."

"Yeah, of course."

No wine for Hank while he was piloting the plane, but that was okay. He enjoyed flying. If he tried to imagine what he'd be doing with his life without Charles or the school, he thought it would involve planes. But trying to imagine his life without Charles was like trying to imagine himself as a different person.

They arrived at their destination late afternoon and were at the hotel with an hour to spare before dinnertime. Charles had reserved a suite, which was an unusual extravagance.

With regards to Hank, Charles had never been inclined toward traditional romantic gestures. It wasn't that he wasn't romantic—it was just that for them, romance usually took the form of Charles surprising him with some rare material he needed for a project he was working on in his lab and Hank reading draft after draft of Charles' genetics papers.

He was different with Moira. He'd agonized over which ties to pack, which restaurants to reserve. He'd stocked the plane with at least three different kinds of wine and champagne. Hank was half-surprised Charles didn't present Moira with a bouquet of roses. Coming from Charles, none of this felt inauthentic. But again, Hank thought this was Charles humoring his own nostalgia. Maybe he wanted a break from being the Professor for a while, and who could begrudge him that?

After they checked into their suite, Hank called the school to make sure everything was running smoothly. Raven assured him it was.

"Seriously, you guys have been gone for what, three hours, and you're already thinking about the school? Is it _that_ bad watching Charles and Moira make lovey-dovey eyes at each other?"

"What? No! No, things are fine. Speaking of Moira, you're keeping an eye on her son, right?"

"Yeah, don't worry. The Danger Room really tired him out."

Hank's chest seized up. "Wait, what?"

Raven laughed. "I'm _kidding_. The kid is fine. Kurt's playing board games with him."

Hank passed the phone over to Moira, who wanted to say hi to her son. He went into the bathroom to freshen up before they left for dinner. When he came out, Moira had hung up the phone and was leaning against the arm of the sofa, smiling broadly while Charles spoke to her. Leaning over, she touched her fingertips to Charles' arm.

Raven might have been right about them. But who was he to judge? Moira was lovely and Charles...well, he'd been a fool for Charles for years, now.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Moira was the first one up. She was looking at the room service menu when Hank emerged yawning from his bedroom. She'd just showered—her hair was wet and she was wearing a satiny navy robe with a floral print.

Hank was pretty sure nothing had happened between her and Charles after they said goodnight. She'd been the first to turn in, citing fatigue from a long week at work.

Hank was a little disappointed. It was clear that this trip was supposed to lead up to something. Charles was hoping that all the phone conversations and visits Moira had made to the school recently were going to lead to something _more_. Hank wanted Charles to be happy, but also, if he was honest with himself, it was kind of exhausting to watch the man he loved act so infatuated. He knew it would pass. Either Charles would get his feelings out of his system or Moira would become part of their lives. But Hank had never been good with this stage of a relationship. He didn't enjoy the ambiguity or the romantic rituals. He was eternally grateful that he and Charles had just sort of...happened.

Moira glanced up from the menu. "Good morning! Do you think Charles will want to order breakfast when he gets up?"

"Charles hates getting up before nine, so I think what he'd want is for us to go ahead and order. We can get him some eggs or something."

Charles was still in bed when the food arrived, so Hank and Moira started without him.

"You know," she said, nibbling on a piece of toast. "I don't think I've had a real vacation since my son was born. In fact, I think I considered my maternity leave a vacation. And trust me, it wasn't a vacation."

"Well, this isn't exactly the norm for Charles. I don't know if he's ever taken a vacation in the time I've known him, to be honest. So, thank you. I'm glad someone could inspire him to take it easy." Hank set down his fork. He felt like he needed to say something, but this didn't seem like the occasion for heavy conversations. But he didn't know when he'd get another chance to talk to Moira alone. "You know, I was thinking about what you said the other day, about being a third wheel. You have to understand that with Charles, even if it's just you and him, you're always going to be the third wheel. I don't mean that in a bad way. He's ambitious, and he cares about so many people. The school, the students...they mean everything to him. That's why he did what he did with your memory."

Moira had been taking a sip of orange juice. She swallowed and took a deep breath. "I know. I think that's why I forgive him for it."

 

* * *

 

Hank wanted to give them a chance to let things unfold. No matter how okay he said he was with this arrangement, he knew they might not feel comfortable doing anything while he was in the next room. He wasn't sure if _he_ would be comfortable.

On the last night of their trip, he went out to meet up with an old friend from Harvard for dinner. Then he stayed in the hotel bar until a quarter past eleven. If that didn't give them enough time to move into Charles' bedroom, it wasn't his fault. 

When he entered the suite, there was no sign of Charles and Moira at first. But then he saw that the door to Charles' room was open. It was dark inside except for the bedside lamp, but he could make out Charles sitting on the bed in his pajamas, propped up against a stack of pillows. He was looking down at Moira, who was lying on her stomach beside him in her floral-print bathrobe. Her knees were bent, her bare legs rocking back and forth.

Hank froze, and Charles looked up, locking eyes with him. There was no hint of reproach or embarrassment in his expression. Moira noticed his distraction and looked over her shoulder. She sat up and turned to face the door. She glanced at Charles, and then back at Hank.

"We just settled in," she said. "Do you want to join us?"

Hank had never been good at interpreting these sorts of things. The offer might have been a polite formality. Maybe they were waiting for him to leave again.

Charles smiled. It was the small, hopeful smile that he gave Hank whenever he wanted something. "Yes, join us."

They were both watching him now. Waiting. Hank took a few cautious steps into the bedroom. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge. Charles kept his eyes trained on him, and Hank wondered if he was reading his thoughts, and if they made any sense. He'd been so concerned about not intruding that he hadn't thought much about being included.

"I'm glad you're here," Charles said softly. He placed one hand against Hank's cheek and held one of Moira's hands in the other. 

For a minute, they just sat there like a fragile chain. Moira was the first to break it. She let go of Charles' hand, but only so that she could move closer and straddle his lap. She leaned over and kissed him, and her hair obscured their faces like a veil. The front of her robe hung open, exposing the outline of a nipple. Hank quietly toed off his shoes, but didn't dare move otherwise. He was barely breathing.

Charles parted Moira's robe and worked one of his hands between her thighs. He was so intent on her that for a moment, Hank felt like he could sink into the shadows and they'd never notice his absence. But then Charles reached blindly with his free hand until he hooked his fingers onto the waist of Hank's pants. Hank knelt on the bed and inched closer to them.

Charles grasped at him greedily. Now he grabbed Hank's shirt, and pulled him down into a kiss. When Hank came up for air, he took off his glasses, which had been knocked askew, and tossed them onto the nightstand. When he turned back, Moira was unbuttoning Charles' pajama top.

Hank touched her tentatively, placing his hand on her back as though she might shock him. She moaned softly and leaned into his touch, and he felt brave enough to pull aside the neck of her robe, and kiss her shoulder. He traced the freckles on her back with his finger like he was reading them, like he was studying her.

The way to love Charles, he'd found, was to love everything—and everyone—that Charles loved.

 

* * *

 

They checked out in the morning, and Charles' spirits deflated for the first time in days.

"I do hope you'll visit us soon," he told Moira as Hank did a quick inventory of their luggage. "I'm afraid we'll be quite busy when the semester starts, but I can always spare some time for you."

"Of course. We still have a lot of catching up to do."

In the plane, Moira spent some time in the cockpit after take-off. It was a perfect day to fly, and Moira sat back, and looked out the window at the clear skies.

"He's very lucky to have you," she said suddenly.

"I don't know about--"

"If I'd stayed with him back in '62, I don't know what would have happened to us. I was--I am--very focused on my career. And so is he. God, that sounds like an understatement, doesn't it? Calling everything he's done a career? What I mean is, I'm glad he's had someone who could be there for him."

They hadn't talked about what happened last night. What was there to say? He figured there was at least a fifty percent chance it'd never happen like that again, with the three of them. But if there were going to share Charles—not just enjoy their own versions of him but _share_ him—he was glad that they got a chance to see each other through Charles' eyes at least once.

Hank cleared his throat. "You know, there's a genetics conference in September that Charles wants to go to. Maybe you'd enjoy coming with us. Or if things are really busy at the school and I can't get away, you could keep him company. It's mostly a bunch of old guys talking about natural selection, but if you're into that, it's pretty fun. And Charles could tell you all about how his views are better. He's already told me, so...."

Actually, that conference was kind of boring. But Moira had read every one of Charles' papers and would probably love to hear his commentary on the speakers.

"That sounds great. I'd love to go."

Hank heard the soft whir of Charles' chair approaching, which gave him some warning before Charles pulled the curtain open and peeked into the cockpit.

"I hope you two aren't talking about me while I'm stuck back here."

Hank shook his head. He was pretty sure Charles knew exactly what they were talking about, but Charles was too polite to admit outright to using his telepathy. "You caught us," he said with a shrug. "We're conspiring."

"The fun kind of conspiracy, I hope."

Moira leaned over the side of her chair to face him, a smile on her face. "I guess you'll find out."


End file.
